My big ball of baby

My kids hate the cold in a way that’s almost unnatural.

Take, for example, last winter, when we had the first somewhat significant snowfall since Anthony’s birth. Cera and Ant sat in front of our bay window and excitedly watched the fat flakes fall, but when we finally bundled up and headed outside, well … it was a short trip. Anthony was back indoors within a matter of moments, but not before I caught this photo of him examining a snowball. I love his expression.

And Cera, well, she enjoyed playing in the snow until her mittens got wet and her fingers started to freeze. Then it was all over.

This is not to say that I enjoy the cold. I grew up in southeastern Pennsylvania and have experienced enough frozen fingers, toes and noses to last a lifetime. But I can at least tolerate cold weather.

Not my kids. In fact, when the sun went down at the state fair this fall, Cera, who waits all year for the chance to ride roller coasters and get lost in fun houses, asked to go home.

Because she was “freeeee-zing.”

Needless to say, these past few weeks of chilly autumn mornings have been rough on my little Southern babies, especially Anthony. He is rarely awake when I load him into the van to take Cera to school and most often sleeps straight through until we’re back home. Then, as I take him from his car seat, he draws in his arms and legs so that he’s just one giant ball of baby. It’s nearly impossible to carry him that way, but it seems like instinct to him, as if he’s collapsing in on himself in an attempt to maintain his body temperature.

Once we’re inside, Ant will stay in a ball for the next five minutes or so, cuddling into me as he regains his warmth. And then, in true toddler fashion, he’ll strip off his pajamas and spend the next several hours running around in only a diaper. Go figure.

I can’t wait to see how Ant survives once winter really arrives. I fear that his instinct to stay warm might lead him to hole up in his closet and hibernate until spring.